The Faculty
by modestlobster
Summary: Here's Chapter 4. Enjoy. (Casey POV, Rated R for language)
1. The Long Walk (1979)

  
Author's Note and Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the characters and etc from The Faculty, nor do I own the rights to the titles of any of Stephen King's books. Thanks to everyone who helped get a category for The Faculty here at fanfiction.net - finally!   
  
  
  
Chapter 1: The Long Walk (1979)   
  
The bus isn't really that bad.   
What am I talking about? It is that bad. At least by sitting in the front you don't breathe in all the smoke coming from the back. The bus is a real P.O.S., but I know that that is definitely not just exhaust fumes.   
Of course, in the front, you have to sit surrounded by losers who want you to take pictures of the cows in the pasture that are procreating by the side of the road. We have plenty of cows in Ohio. And the bus gets stopped at every traffic light on the way to school.   
But I'm not one of them. I'm just the geek with the camera.   
I'm a different kind of loser.   
Every day starts just like this. And now I leave the hell of the bus for something worse.   
But anyway, enough complaining...   
Oh, hey. There's Delilah. I swear she holds her little meetings right near where I get off the bus just to tease me.   
I wish I could get a couple more nice candids of her, but she'd kill me if I tried. Anyway, I think my camera needs a new -   
_Whack!_   
Yeah. I really needed to be elbowed in the face this morning.   
Damnit - and now there's the nosebleed. As always.   
What else were you expecting, Casey?   
I hate how this is constituting as a normal day so far. I've seen worse days, so I guess I should could consider myself lucky. It's another sunny day in Hell.   
"Go fuck your mom, dickhead!" I yelled after the dumbass that was responsible. Except it kind of came out as a pathetic, "Sorry. My fault."   
Damnit. I hate those assholes.   
"Crash and burn, Casey."   
Hey, Stokely. Love you, too. At least she noticed, though. In an odd way, it was kind of nice of her to say something. She cared enough to notice. Life is screwed up. Especially mine.   
Especially now.   
I've barely stood up and those jocks - those jerks - are back.   
"Casey, Casey, Casey..."   
"Yeah, Dick?"   
"Wrong answer, Casey. You know that's not my name."   
"But it fits your personality perfectly." I muttered, looking off to the side.   
He laughed. "Cocky today, are we? You know we can't have that Casey. We can't have you walking around thinking you have bigger balls than me. We'll just have to fix your little misconception."   
His thugs agreed, so they grabbed me and carried me by my arms and legs to my fate. It was going to be the dumpster today, wasn't it?   
I tried to look where they were taking me, but I was worrying about my camera more than myself - if part of it fell off in the dumpster like it did last week...   
Okay, they're really taking their time in dragging out today's punishment. Did they forget what they were doing? Morons, we're still in the courtyard. And don't you realize that you need to go around the flagpole?   
"One! Two!"   
Shit. Casey's a little slow on the uptake today.   
_"No, not the pole!"_   
Thirty miles an hour into a flagpole.   
Crotch-first.   
Twice.   
...Let's just say that my nuts really hurt.   
"Are you okay, Casey?"   
She almost sounded scared to ask.   
And who was that? Oh, that girl from English. I catch her looking at me out of the corner of my eye all the time. Sometimes she catches me looking at her.   
She got up the courage to ask again. "Casey, are you okay?"   
"No." My voice sort of cracked, but I tried not to whine.   
"Can I... help at all?"   
I shook my head, still looking really pathetic, rolled up in a ball on the grass. She didn't know what else to say, so she left. She looked like she had wanted to say something or do something else, I think, and I kind of wished she would have.   
Oh well. Get your ass up, Casey.   
God, I can't walk.   
But somehow I've managed to get to the closest bathroom.   
I can hardly stand - I have to lean in the corner of the stall.   
My nose is bleeding even worse now.   
I guess there's a reason God gave us two hands. What a sight: my fingers shoved up my nose along with several lengths of one-ply; My other hand is checking for any long-term damage to my manhood. I should have known what they meant when they wanted to make sure their balls were bigger than mine.   
But I think I'm okay.   
I could hear Zeke on the other side of the stall conducting business, so I couldn't go out in the middle of that and disrupt the transaction. And I couldn't go out in public with my nose still gushing.   
I closed my eyes for a moment with the sudden feeling that the word of the day was definitely going to be "fuck".   
The blood kept running without showing any signs of letting up.   
_"Fuck."_   
The bell for first period rang.   
Fuck.   



	2. Misery (1987)

  
Chapter 2: Misery (1987)   
  
I was going to be late for first period.   
Again.   
And it wasn't my fault.   
Again.   
My dad swore he was going to kill me if he found out I was skipping.   
Again.   
I only skip because my first period teacher hates me. I have never done anything wrong to that woman.   
Sure, I hate math, but I don't blame her for its existence.   
But even if I don't skip, even if I'm not late, she calls. At least twice a week. I think she calls to hit on my dad - judging from his end of the conversation.   
It's sick. He's married. And he's a prick. Every way you look at him.   
Anyway, my first three classes droned on like they always do. It's a little sad to think that this early in the year it's already become a routine. All I do is try to stay awake, try to do what homework I can while I'm in class so I can keep making straight A's while, at the same time, pretending with the rest of the student body that I have a life outside of school.   
The only difference in my routine today was that I, on the whole, was very uncomfortable.   
I hate school.   
No, that's not exactly true. I don't hate school, I just hate the people in it.   
Finally, the bell.   
Third period's over. English class sucked today. I just want lunch. I've got to find out what Delilah wants for the paper, too. And -   
"Casey?"   
Why is there always a note of pity in the voices of the female teachers when they say my name?   
"Yes, Mrs. Linson."   
"You never signed up for a group for the project. Did you forget?"   
No.   
"Yeah. I must have."   
"Could you do that now? There are still a few groups open."   
"I was wondering if I could work alone... again."   
She shook her head apologetically. "I have a limited number of topics, so I need you to be in one of these two groups."   
Oh good. Two all-girl groups. I have so much luck with the women.   
"I guess I'll go with the fifth group."   
It had some of Delilah's friends in it. So I could score some points with Delilah. But, of course, I would completely not fit in.   
"Are you sure?" She asked politely. "Wouldn't you be... more productive in the third group?"   
"The nerd group..." I muttered to myself.   
"Hmm? What was that Casey?"   
"The third group. Yeah, that's fine."   
"All right. Have a good day."   
"Yeah."   
I had nothing against the girls in my group. But they were like me. Only girls. And they wouldn't get me any closer to Delilah. But I guess that's what the school newspaper does for me.   
Finally, I can go to lunch. The only vaguely "relaxing" part of my day.   
And yet, today, my life has been made a living Hell. Again.   
Those jerks go out of their way to make my life miserable.   
I guess I won't be eating there today. Or ever.   
So now I have to find someplace they would never think to look for me.   
Ah, the football field.   
It's a lot quieter here. I'm alone. But that's nothing new.   
  
_Have a great day   
Love, Mom_   
  
That's why I get beat up, isn't it? Because I have a mom who loves me. And who still makes my lunch. And still writes notes to leave in it.   
But that's nothing new.   
Lunch is probably close to being over. And I really can't afford any phone calls from any of my teachers though I doubt Mr. Furlong would care. But it's not like I want to miss his class anyway.   
They seem to spend more time and effort on watering the damn football field than doing anything else in school. The school falls apart brick by brick and they buy a new sprinkler system so the football players don't have to play on dead grass.   
What the hell is this?   
A bug?   
Or something?   
"What are you doing?"   
Shit. Where did Coach Willis come from? I didn't even see him come over here.   
"I was just eating my lunch, sir."   
Hide what you found, Casey.   
"This ain't the cafeteria, son."   
Play innocent to whatever he yells at you for. It's not like you were doing anything, anyway.   
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry about that, sir."   
He stills looks like he's going to kill me.   
"You're uh..."   
Of course he's going to kill me. He eats kids like me for breakfast.   
"...I forget your name."   
Like you would ever know it aside from it being on a gym attendance list.   
"Casey."   
I just had to tell him, didn't I? I'm smarter than this. Usually.   
"Right." He eyed me suspiciously. "I've seen you around."   
Great. Can I go now?   
He continued, "You're not really into sports."   
I thought that was obvious, but I guess my personal relationship with the football team had him confused. It's really not a friendly relationship. Ever.   
"I... don't think a person should run unless he's being chased."   
"Being chased... I like that."   
What does he want from me?   
"Get outta here!"   
Point taken.   
What the hell is up with the coach?   
And what is this thing I found?   



	3. IT (1986)

  
Chapter 3: IT (1986)   
  
"Mr. Furlong!"   
"Present."   
"Found something on the football field. Thought you might want to take a look."   
"What is it?"   
"I was hoping you could tell me."   
Several microscopes were always set up in his room, and he was always using all of them. I guess he was hoping to make a name for himself besides just being the biology teacher of Harrington High School. He may not be the most well known person in his field, but he's the coolest teacher I have ever had.   
I held the thing out to him in my open palm and he eyed it curiously before carefully picking it up.   
"How long ago did you find this?"   
"Just a few minutes ago. I'm not sure how long it's been sitting out there on the field." I shrugged. "Could be days."   
He moved a bacteria culture from one of the microscopes and set the specimen on an unused petri dish. "Was there anything else near where you found it? Any other ones?"   
I thought for a moment. "No... Well, I don't think so, at least. I didn't really have time to look around..." I looked away. "I was kind of... kicked off the field by Coach Willis."   
Mr. Furlong looked up from adjusting the optic lenses. "He's been acting pretty weird today."   
I nodded. "Yeah. No kidding."   
He shrugged and went back to making adjustments. "I wouldn't take it personally."   
Someone came up to ask Mr. Furlong something, but they discarded that train of thought when they saw what he was doing. A couple more kids wanted to see, and in moments nearly the entire class was crowding around.   
A girl named Venus had edged her way to the front and asked what the majority of the class was thinking. "What is that? Some sort of bug or something?"   
Mr. Furlong smiled furtively. "Not quite, Miss Summers. Good guess."   
Not being satisfied with that answer, she continued, "So, then are you going to tell us, or do we have to keep on guessing?"   
"Guess if you like, but I'm not sure myself what it is just yet." He changed to a greater magnification. "I can tell you that it's not an insect. Hmm... Yeah... Not Arthropoda or Mollusca. I almost want to say Rhombozoa or Orthonectida, but... It's not them."   
He looked up to see 27 blank faces staring back at him. "Well, it's kind of complex, but if you can follow what I'm saying..." He refocused again, shaking his head, still speaking more to himself than to the students. "Certain mesozoan only exist in the kidney of certain squid and octopi... Which doesn't make any sense because..." He trailed off.   
"This is Ohio." I finished his thought.   
"Right." He continued the examination. "It's a pelagic organism."   
"What's pelagic?" Gabe asked.   
Zeke answered him from the opposite end of the room. "A sea-dwelling organism."   
"Exactly." Mr. Furlong cast a glance at Zeke who was sprawled lazily in his chair. "But I don't recognize this surface tissue at all."   
Mr. Furlong looked at me this time. "Casey, I don't want to blow smoke up your butt, but I think you found a new species."   
Excuse me?   
The jock laughed. "Yeah, right."   
Shut up, Gabe.   
Mr. Furlong wasn't especially fond of the football players either, so he eyed Gabe, slightly displeased - a very rare sight. "Hey, it could happen. New species are discovered every day. Don't be so cynical."   
Zeke sauntered up to the table. "Could it be gnathostomulida?"   
Furlong shook his head. "Nah."   
Zeke shrugged. "They escaped detection til the mid 20th century."   
A blonde girl that I didn't recognize was blushing in Zeke's direction. "You just know everything, don't you?"   
He smiled at her. "I'm a contradiction."   
Mr. Furlong brought Zeke back to the task at hand. "Check the mesodermic follicles on its underbelly."   
"What does that mean?" It was my turn to be completely lost in the scientific references. Though, in my defense, I'm not a dumb jock.   
Mr. Furlong smiled slightly. "It means we gotta call the university, let them take a look... Maybe get in on some of that federal grant money."   
He fell into scheming in silence before realizing that we were all still there.   
Mr. Furlong looked around at all of us. "Our secret, all right?"   
He placed the creature on a tray and Gabe and Stokely started insulting each other like they normally do.   
Shit! It moved!   
I looked at Mr. Furlong. "Did you see that?"   
Wasn't it dead?   
Gabe watched the thing pulsate with disgust. "What is it doing?"   
Mr. Furlong picked up the tray and headed to the large, currently vacant fish tank in the room.   
Zeke was close at his heels. "You think it's amphibian?"   
"Well, water resuscitated it."   
I watched Mr. Furlong's actions with uncertainty. "But couldn't this kill it?"   
"Yeah," Gabe agreed, "You don't want to drown it."   
Mr. Furlong shrugged. "Only one way to find out."   
He dropped the creature in. It started to sink to the bottom.   
So much for that.   
It moved.   
It moved!   
"It's all right." Mr. Furlong assured the more squeamish students, "...It's okay."   
He pulled on a latex glove and plunged his hand into the tank.   
"Mr. Furlong," Gabe interposed, "What are you doing?"   
"I just want to check it's prostate. Actually the surface texture changed... so I want to feel it."   
The creature effortlessly dodged Mr. Furlong's attempts to handle it. Suddenly it flicked around in the opposite direction. And suddenly there were two.   
Mr. Furlong stared into the water in wonder. "It can replicate... Jesus!"   
He was quickly pulled out of his awe when it mangled his finger. "Fuck! God damnit!"   
He held up his hand, surveying the damage. "...I'm okay."   
Blood started to trickle down his gloved hand.   
"It has teeth." I glanced at the pair of creatures and then back to Mr. Furlong. "Where did it get teeth?"   
He was still staring at his hand. "I'm gonna call the university."   



	4. Creepshow (1982)

Author's Note: Wondering about the numbers in the chapter titles? They're the publication years of the Stephen King novels that make up the chapter titles. Just thought I'd mention that, in case you were wondering. Here's Chapter 4.   
  
Chapter 4: Creepshow (1982)   
  
Gym. What a great way to end the day.   
Not at all.   
Go to Hell gym clothes. Go to Hell gym shoes.   
Why is there no clock in here? I really need to get a watch.   
If the bell doesn't ring-   
Thank you. For slamming me into my locker.   
"Hey, yo, piss wad. You're in my way."   
Oh. Good. It's Gabe. Again.   
"I'm sorry. I was breathing here."   
"Yah, see, that's the problem," he said, obviously not enjoying my attempt at humor, "You're occupying my air, anal probe."   
Luckily Stan showed up and distracted Gabe's short attention span before I could manage to get my ass kicked. Again.   
How nice of Stan. Right.   
"Hey, yo, Stan. Tomorrow night. Let's get her done. Yeah!"   
Hearing jocks talk is like watching bacteria try to evolve. They just shouldn't try. It's obviously too hard and way beyond their comprehension to make any coherency of it.   
Gabe left and I glanced at Stan. "It must really blow being you."   
Smart, Casey. I must really like to see how many times in a single day I can risk being pummeled into the ground.   
But he just looked at me for a moment.   
"You have no idea." He said and left for the showers.   
Is it possible that Stan is actually a good person? He never has given me any crap, actually. Maybe he is-   
"Casey is that you?"   
Huh?   
I glanced down the row of lockers.   
"Mrs. Brummel? What the fuck!"   
What? Mrs. Brummel?   
Something's not right.   
I ran to the shower room. Stan was there and Mrs. Brummel was clinging to him, gasping for breath.   
Something's definitely not right.   
Stan looked at me, a scared look in his face.   
"Get help!"   
Yeah. Definitely.   
I ran like Hell was biting at my heels. I nearly ran into Coach Willis who tried in vain to grab my shirt collar as I went past.   
"What are you doing, son." He called after me.   
"The... showers!" was all I could manage before I was out of hearing range, out of the locker room.   
I stopped when I was outside and looked around, bewildered.   
What now?   
I could hear yet another commotion from the locker room.   
Judging from Coach Willis' shout of "Stan! What the hell is going on?" my guess is that Stan bolted.   
He joined me suddenly with a look that clearly said, "Yeah. I know I'm only wearing a fucking towel, but you can fuck off because I don't give a shit right now."   
He looked around for a moment, then looked back to me. I nodded and we ran off to get to the principal's office and, instead, ran into Mrs. Olsen.   
"Boys, boys." She blinked a couple times and smiled incredulous of anything we might tell her. "What do you think you're doing?"   
"Mrs. Brummel is-"   
"The showers were-"   
"She might be dying and-"   
"I'm not sure if-"   
Her face grew more and more serious as we fumbled through an explanation. When she seemed to realize what had happened, her eyes narrowed and she looked at Stan. "Go wait in my office right now."   
Then she turned to me. "And don't move once you're there."   
She glanced back at Stan.   
"Get dressed first."   
I left for the office and he reluctantly went back to the locker room purposely trailing as far behind Mrs. Olsen as possible.   
It didn't take him very long to change, and now he and I are sitting and waiting. He looks kind of pale, but I don't blame him.   
He worked on expelling the water from his ear and I fidgeted with my camera. Mrs. Olsen came in, breaking the odd silence.   
Stan stood up, immediately investigative. "Is Mrs. Brummel going to be okay?"   
"Stan," Mrs. Olsen began, faltering with how to begin, "Mrs. Brummel has... been diagnosed with cancer and she's on a lot of medication at the moment." She paused. "It causes disorientation." She paused again, "We were hoping that she would get through the school year, but unfortunately..."   
I stopped listening as something outside caught my attention.   
Ah, just the sprinklers on the football field. I normally don't have such a short attention span, but-   
Wait.   
Who - or what - is that in the middle of the football field?   
"Casey?"   
I picked up my camera and zoomed in on the figure.   
"You understand?"   
It was... the coach...   
"Casey, you understand?"   
What is going on?   
Mrs. Olsen cleared her throat as a warning. "Casey?"   
I blinked and pulled my gaze away from the window. "Yeah... Sure."   
What the hell is going on?   



End file.
